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Re-enter Davy. Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats 1 for you.
[setting them before Bardolph. Shal. Davy!
Davy. Your worship ?--I'll be with you straight. [to Bardolph.] A cup of wine, sir ? Si. “A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine,
[singing. And drink unto the leman ? mine;
And a merry heart lives long-a.' Fal. Well said, master Silence.
Si. And we shall be merry; now comes in the sweet of the night.
Fal. Health and long life to you, master Silence ! Si. “Fill the cup, and let it come;
I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom.' Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome : if thou wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome, my little tiny thief; [to the Page.] and welcome, indeed, too. I'll drink to master Bardolph, and to all the cavaleroes about London.
Davy. I hope to see London once ere I die.
Shal. By the mass, you 'll crack a quart together. Ha! will you not, master Bardolph ?
Bar. Yes, sir, in a pottle pot.3
Apples commonly called russetines. 2 Sweetheart. 3 A measure containing two quarts.
Shul. I thank thee. The knave will stick by thee; I can assure thee that: he will not ont; he is true bred.
Bar. And I'll stick by him, sir.
Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing : be merry. [knocking heard.] Look who's at door there. Ho! who knocks ?
(Erit Davy. Fal. Why, now you have done me right.
[to Silence, who drinks a bumper. Si. Do me right,
[singing. And dub me knight : 1
Samingo.' Is 't not so ?
Fal. 'Tis so.
Si. Is 't so? Why, then say an old man can do somewhat.
Re-enter DAVY. Davy. An it please your worship, there's one Pistol come from the court with news.
Fal. From the court? Let him come in.
How now, Pistol ?
Pis. God save you, sir John!
In Shakspeare's time, he who drank a bumper to the health of his mistress on his knees, was dubbed a knight for he remainder of the orening.
good. Sweet knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm.
Si. By ’r lady, I think ’a be; but goodman Puff of Barson.
Pis. Puff ?
Fal. I pr’ythee now, deliver them like a man of this world.
Pis. A foutra for the world, and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys.
Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news ? Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof.
Si. “And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.' [sings.
Pis. Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons ? And shall good news be baffled ? Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap.
Si. Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. Pis. Why then, lament therefore.
Shal. Give me pardon, sir. If, sir, you come with news from the court, I take it, there is but two ways; either to utter them, or to conceal them. I ain, sir, under the king, in some authority. Pis. Under which king, Bezonian ? 1 speak, or
Shal. Under king Harry.
Harry the fourth, or fifth?
A foutra for thine office!
Fal. What! is the old king dead ?
Fal. Away, Bardolph ; saddle my horse. Master Robert Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land; 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities.
Bar. O joyful day! I would not take a knighthood for my fortune.
Pis. What? I do bring good news ?
Fal. Carry master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my lord Shallow, be what thou wilt; I am For. tune's steward. Get on thy boots; we'll ride all night. O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! [Exit Bar.] Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and, withal, devise something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, master Shallow; I know, the young king is sick for me. Let us take any man's horses; the laws of England are at my commandment. Happy are they which have been my friends; and woe to my lord chief justice!
· Express your contempt of me.
Pis. Let vultures vile seise on his lungs also!
London. A street.
Enter BEADLES, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY and
Host. No, thou arrant knave; I would I might die, that I might have thee hanged: thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint.
1 Bea. The constables have delivered her over to me; and she shall have whipping-cheer enough, 1 warrant her. There hath been a man or two lately killed about her. Doll. Nut-hook,? nut-hook, you lie.
Come on I'll tell thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal ; an the child I now go with, do miscarry, thou hadst better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou paperfaced villain.
Host. O the Lord, that sir John were come! He would make this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God, the fruit of her womb miscarry!
1 Bea. If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again ; you have but eleven now. Come, I charge
1 Words of an old ballad. ? A name of reproach for a catchpoll.